


The Thing With Feathers (That Perches In The Soul)

by BlackUnicorn



Series: A Map, Redrawn [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Fifth Year, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's not who you think, M/M, Narcissa Black Malfoy is a Good Parent, POV Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Pining Draco Malfoy, Professor Remus Lupin, Second War with Voldemort, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Sirius Black Lives, Slytherin, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Smart Draco Malfoy, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackUnicorn/pseuds/BlackUnicorn
Summary: Some might say that it was just another year at Hogwarts but Draco knew better. Things had changed. With the Dark Lord's return, he would have to make a choice. It was clear what his father wanted him to do, what his mother didn't want him to do, but what did he want?That, he thought, was a question he needed to answer for himself, and soon, because time was running out.***“You will have to be smart,” mother had said, “Smart and strong,” while she had pulled him into a tight embrace, her voice barely a whisper in his ear, “My little dragon.”When she had stepped back, her face had given away nothing of the fear Draco knew she was feeling, not that he had expected it – she was a Malfoy and a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, showing weakness was a death sentence.“I expect only the best of you, Draco,” his father had said, his voice distant and his eyes cold.“Yes, father.”His best would never be good enough, Draco had accepted that a long time ago, though it had never stopped him from trying, but maybe this year…
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: A Map, Redrawn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615663
Comments: 10
Kudos: 345





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I'm back from London and hoo boy, so much Crowley/Aziraphale material...can't wait to get started on that. Also, the Harry Potter Warner Bros studios are AMAZING!!! If you're planning a trip to London, definitely put that on your list of must-dos.  
> Anyway, this is the third part of the 'A Map, Redrawn' series, this time from Draco's POV, with Wolfstar being more in the background. There is plot happening. And very light pining. Drarry might happen at some point in the future but not quite yet.  
> Enjoy

“You will have to be smart,” mother had said, “Smart and strong,” while she had pulled him into a tight embrace, her voice barely a whisper in his ear, “My little dragon.”

When she had stepped back, her face had given away nothing of the fear Draco knew she was feeling, not that he had expected it – she was a Malfoy and a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, showing weakness was a death sentence.

“I expect only the best of you, Draco,” his father had said, his voice distant and his eyes cold.

“Yes, father.”

His best would never be good enough, Draco had accepted that a long time ago, though it had never stopped him from trying, but maybe this year…

_Maybe things will change_ , he thought as he boarded the train, walking past the compartment he and his friends usually occupied towards the Prefects’ carriage. At least Pansy would be there to keep him sane; she was good at that. He’d missed her, this summer. They hadn’t seen each other since she’d spend the months in France with her mum, and he’d mostly been cooped up in the Manor, listening to hushed conversations between his mother and father, making up his own mind about the actions he would take now that the Dark Lord had returned.

Through the window, Draco could see students and parents talking, crying, laughing – saying goodbye – and there, in the middle of it all, stood Harry Potter. He’d changed. It had already been visible after the previous summer, but now it was impossible to miss. He was taller, stronger, lean muscles filling out his shirt and trousers. Though Draco knew nothing about Muggle clothing, he could see that, what Potter was wearing, was fashionable, to say the least. He looked healthy, his skin no longer pale, his hair thick and wild, his eyes no longer hidden by the hideous glasses he’d used to wear. He was talking to Sirius Black and Professor Lupin, a bright smile on his face. He looked happy.

Had Draco been anyone else, his face might have betrayed the storm roaring inside of him – longing and bitterness battling against each other, a deep wanting, a desire to cry, or maybe throw up – as it was, however, Draco was a Malfoy. Showing weakness was a death sentence. Instead, he let his gaze glide over and past the small, weird family, spotting more familiar faces in the crowd. A litter of red-haired children in shabby robes. The Mudblood, hair as bushy as ever, talking to the Weaselette. Plump Mrs. Weasley and her husband. They all looked anxious, Draco noted, casting around nervous glances, hands near their wands. Not that Draco could fault them. Potter might not have gone public with what had happened before the summer, but there was no doubt that he had told his friends.

The door to the carriage slid open and Pansy stepped in, letting out a barely audible, choked of sound as soon as he saw him, rushing forward to pull him into a tight hug.

“Is it true then?” she whispered, “The rumours?”

They couldn’t talk. Not here. But still, Draco nodded.

Mother had urged him to be careful with who he trusted. Many of his fellow Slytherins had parents who were loyal to the Dark Lord, word of his return had spread fast among the Pure-blood families even if some hadn’t believed it. There had been no news, the Ministry either unaware or in denial about the events during the third task of Triwizard Tournament. Not even Dumbledore had spoken up. The fact that Diggory had spent a year imprisoned in a magical trunk remained a mystery to most, merely the actions of a deranged mad man.

Pansy let go of him, her brows knitted together in concern. “What will you do?” she asked.

“I will be smart, Pansy.” _Smart and strong_.

* * *

In the end, Draco chose Pansy, Blaise, Vincent, Greg, and Millicent to get into one of the coaches with him and carefully talk them through what mother had said.

“It’s true,” he announced, hushing his voice despite the fact that they were alone, “The Dark Lord has returned. My father has joined him. As have Vincent’s and Greg’s, I presume.” The two boys in question nodded, their faces grim. “Mother does not wish me to follow in father’s footsteps, she advised me to keep my head low this year. Apparently, a Ministry official will be at Hogwarts, since Fudge has finally had enough of Dumbledore’s meddling in Ministry affairs. He has tried to convince Fudge that the Dark Lord is back but without success. Mother wants me to be careful.” He cast a look around. So far, everyone seemed to be on his side, still. Pansy looked pale, paler than usual, while Blaise’s eyes were wide with fear. Only Millicent had a small smile on her lips that Draco had always found highly disturbing. “I find myself agreeing with her,” he finally finished.

“So,” Greg began, “What will you do?”

“That, I haven’t decided yet.”

Draco knew about the letter mother had sent to Black at the start of the summer and he knew she wanted him to seek out Lupin, but he wasn’t prepared to share that particular detail just yet. Pansy and Blaise would support him, no matter what, of that Draco was certain. Greg and Vincent were a different question, they’d stuck close to Draco because of their fathers and Draco wasn’t sure if they’d continue to do so if he went against Lucius’ wishes the way he intended. Millicent was a bit of a gamble that he hoped he wouldn’t regret later on.

“Well,” Blaise said, considering him, “Whatever it is you do, you’ll have to be careful.”

“Why, thank you, Zabini, that hasn’t occurred to me yet,” Draco sniped at his friend whose only answer was a particularly sharp smirk.

“Why haven’t they said anything, though?” Vince asked, “Potter and Dumbledore?”

“Dumbledore has,” Draco replied, “Just not publicly. Father says, Dumbledore’s been trying to convince Fudge of the Dark Lord’s return all summer, but Fudge wouldn’t believe him – that’s why he sent one of his people. To keep an eye on Dumbledore. He’s getting paranoid apparently, believes Dumbledore wants to take his place as Minister.”

The Ministry official, it turned out, was Dolores Umbridge, a woman his father sang his praises to, but that Draco found was somewhat sickening without being completely sure to say what it was.

Pansy nodded when he said as much to her. “You know what else is sickening?” she replied before nodding towards the Gryffindor table, “ _That_.”

It didn’t take long for Draco to spot ‘that’, as Potter’s little gang was sitting right in his line if sight, next to the brunet, Weasley was stuffing his face with food while also somehow managing to talk, much to the obvious disgust of Granger if her face was anything to go by.

“I feel almost sorry for her,” Pansy commented, and Draco had to agree, “If she wasn’t such a bitch.”

Draco’s mouth curled into a grin, “I’m pretty sure,” he said, “That the biggest bitch in this school, is you.” Pansy smirked at that, a mischievous gleam entering her eyes as they turned to meet Draco’s.

“And I own it,” she purred, pupping a single piece of chicken into her mouth.

It was true, of course, Pansy prided herself with being ruthless and cunning – a true Slytherin, she always said, except Draco knew that was not all. She was so much more than what she made people to believe she was it was that, the hidden depths, that made him love her, just as it was little moments like these that he savoured, moments where they could truly be themselves before slipping back into their masks and roles.

“Where’s the oaf?” someone a few seats down the table asked. Nott probably.

Draco turned his gaze towards the teachers’ table and, indeed, Hagrid was not there.

“Maybe Dumbledore finally got rid of him,” Tracy said, sounding incredibly bored.

“No,” Draco said slowly, shaking his head. _No, something’s going on…_

Hagrid was missing, which meant Dumbledore was up to something, which meant Umbridge was here on Fudge’s orders – to keep an eye on the old coot.

Everyone else was there, though. Severus was being his usual, cheerful self, glowering at anyone who dared look his way – Draco had actually no idea where his godfather’s loyalties lay. He couldn’t have been at the graveyard since Draco had seen him at the Quidditch Pitch and, then later, make sure that his House returned to the Dungeons, but, of course, that didn’t have to mean anything. He could have just been biding his time, pretending to be Dumbledore’s lapdog a little longer to keep the pretence up. Both Flitwick and Sprout were eating in silence, an unusual sight as they normally animatedly chatted to whoever was closest. And then there was Lupin. The DADA professor was leaning over to McGonagall, both whispering intently to each other, throwing the occasional glance at Umbridge.

“They don’t look too happy, do they?” Adrian Pucey commented. The seventh year was sitting next to Pansy and had apparently followed Draco’s gaze. “Can’t blame them to be honest.”

“Why?”

“My sister,” Adrian said, “She works in the Ministry. She was there when Fudge gave the order to place Umbridge here. Looks like a lot of things are about to change.”

“Can’t get any worse than it was,” Greg grunted in-between chewing his chips.

“Says you.” Adrian shook his head, a dark expression in his eyes. “Fudge is scared that Dumbledore teaches us too much. Paranoid bastard. Umbridge is to oversee and assess the teachers and the curriculums and if she sees something she doesn’t like, she’ll change it. I don’t know about you, but I’m taking my NEWTs this year and I don’t fancy failing just ‘cause some idiot won’t let us learn proper spells.”

Draco had to agree.

Dumbledore might have been a nutter with a soft spot for Muggles and Mudbloods, but at least he was no fool and at least he made sure they were prepared for their exams and, when it came down to it, the things that awaited them outside of school.

* * *

The term started off grim. All the teachers were on edge with Umbridge lurking behind every corner, the upcoming OWLs meant piles of homework that even Draco struggled with at times, and mother’s letters did nothing settle the rising unease in Draco’s mind.

_He is most unpleased with your father_ , she had written one time, _for losing something valuable to Him._

_I fear your father has stopped confiding in me_ , she had written another time, _I only hope he does not suspect my mistrust_.

_Though I am not privy to His plans, it is clear that said plans exist. Your father is not home a lot these days, carrying out His orders, I presume, getting more and more agitated and closed-off. He worries me._

Draco, too, was worried. He already knew that the Dark Lord had been angry with his father, already knew that the trust between his mother and father had worn thin, the fact that something was about to happen, something big no doubt, was not a surprise but it certainly was reason for concern.

And of course, there was Quidditch too.

“You could just quit, you know,” Pansy remarked after they had finished McGonagall’s essay and Draco had made the mistake of voicing his non-motivation for the upcoming training session, “You’re already working yourself to the ground and it won’t be getting any easier.”

Draco scoffed. “As if I’d give Potter that satisfaction,” he said which made Pansy sigh.

“One day –” she muttered but chose not to finish that sentence, instead saying, “Look – you’re a good Seeker, but you’ll never be ‘youngest Seeker of the century’-good. Face it, Draco, Potter is just better than you.”

“I won’t quit.”

“You don’t even like Quidditch!” his friend exclaimed in sheer annoyance.

“I do,” Draco argued, and he did, He enjoyed it. The thing was just –

“Not so much that you really want to be on the team.” _That_. That was the thing. “You joined because of Potter.”

And _that_ was the other thing.

Some people, mainly Pansy and Blaise, called it an unhealthy obsession, but Draco very much objected to that particular notion. An inconvenient fascination, yes. A hapless attraction, maybe. But an obsession, unhealthy or otherwise? No. Absolutely not.

“And I will stay on the team,” Draco replied now, making it clear that that would be the end of that discussion.

“Because of Potter,” Pansy finished and, somehow, Draco couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

_Inconvenient and hapless, indeed,_ he thought while getting started on his Potions’ essay.

“You two about done?” Vincent approached their table in the library, “Blaise said Weasley made it on the Gryffindor team. Keeper. Let’s head out and watch them.”

“Really?” Pansy piped up from her essay, “Another Weasley? Sorry, babe,” she turned to Draco, “But we gotta see this.”

“Hmm.” Draco rolled up his parchment. “I suppose we do, don’t we?”

Maybe the day wouldn’t be awful after all.

* * *

“'—Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge’s office,' said Madam Marchbanks. 'This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.'” Millicent lowered the Prophet she’d been reading from, looking at the group in front of her and eventually fixing her gaze on Draco, “I’m not sure how I feel about this,” she confessed.

“I do,” Pansy said, “I don’t like it.”

There was general murmured agreement in the Slytherin Common Room.

“I agree that Dumbledore needs to be – what was it? ‘Subjected to fair and objective evaluation’,” Cassius said from where he was sitting on one of the couches in front of the fireplace, “But, Draco, does your father actually know what she’s doing? I’m struggling enough as it is and now she’s going to disrupt the lessons?”

Draco took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “My father does not,” he answered, “I’m afraid he is more concerned with Dumbledore’s erratic behaviour than our immediate education.”

“Honestly,” Urquhart spoke up, “If she’ll manage to get rid of Hagrid and Lupin, I’m not complaining.”

“Why Lupin?” Cassius asked, frowning deeply.

“He’s a Werewolf.”

“He’s a bloody good teacher, is what he is.”

“I agree with Cassius,” Adrian, Cassius’ best friend, said, “Right now I don’t a give a shit if he’s a Werewolf, Vampire or Centaur, as long as he gets me through my NEWTs.”

There were silent nods all around, some more enthusiastic than others but all in agreement that they would be very much willing to overlook Lupin’s condition in favour of their education.

“Well,” Draco spoke up at last, making sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing, “I’d like to see her inspecting Snape.”

It was enough of a ridiculous image to even make someone like Urquhart chuckle.


	2. Chapter 2

_Little Dragon,_

_In light of the newest developments in the Ministry I will have to insist that you speak to the person we have talked about soon, seeing as there is no way to know how long they will still be there. Alternatively, you may want to seek out your cousin. I am aware that this is a sub-optimal situation, dear, but your father has endorsed the actions taken against the school and I do not believe that his motivation was purely humanitarian or, Merlin forbid, a desire to improve your education. There are bigger things at stake and plans that are slowly but surely being put into motion._

_I have barely seen your father in the last few days but whatever he is doing, it is not working the way it is supposed to, which obviously makes him angry. I am afraid he may attempt more drastic measures to please Him and get back into His good graces, measures that very well might include you – there has been talk of recruiting new people, people that will not arouse suspicion and that can move freely. So far, I have been able to dissuade him from such notions, but I may not be able to do so forever, which means you will have to take your own precautions._

_Most of all, worry about yourself and not me, little dragon._

_Love,_

_Your mother_

Draco stared at the letter in his hand, reading again and again but the words remained the same.

_Worry about yourself and not me, little dragon._

Except he did worry about her. Doing what she was doing was risky, near suicidal, and it would only take one mistake, one tiny, little mistake for it all to go wrong, and Draco knew, should father discover her betrayal, he would kill her.

It was the morning of the Hogsmeade visit, which made most people would be on their way to the village shortly; exactly what Draco needed if he was to have a conversation with Lupin without the whole Castle knowing about it.

“Come in,” Lupin called after Draco had knocked half an hour later, hands clammy and shaky. “Draco,” the professor said softly after the Slytherin had entered and shut the door behind him.

“Professor.”

“How may I help you?”

“I think you know.”

Lupin smiled, weakly and faintly but genuine nonetheless, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I try not to make assumptions,” he said, gesturing towards one of the chairs, “Please, sit. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.” Draco shook his head, taking a seat, taking a moment to look around the office. He’d never actually been in here, never had any reason to, and he hadn’t been sure what he’d expected – a moon chart, maybe? A massive cage? As it were, Lupin’s office looked…normal. An intriguing along the wall, a Grindylow by the window, something that looked like a dog’s bed behind the desk, and pictures. Pictures of young people that looked vaguely familiar – was that Lupin himself? And Black? – pictures of a baby with its parents, pictures of Lupin and Black that must have been taken recently, pictures of Potter.

“Sirius Black is my cousin,” he announced after the silence had stretched too long and it became clear that Lupin had no intentions of breaking it.

“Yes.”

“My mother wrote to him at the beginning of the summer.”

“Yes.”

“You read the letter.” It wasn’t a question, but Draco still had to know, still had to hear Lupin say that they were on the same page.

The professor nodded. “I have,” he agreed.

“So you know why I’m here.”

Lupin took a deep breath that almost sounded like a sigh. “Your mother has asked me to keep an eye on you, I have done that,” he explained, his voice and eyes soft and kind, “Your mother has also asked me to not turn you away if you should ask for help, I had no intentions of doing that regardless of her wishes.” Another deep breath. It struck Draco how weird this had to feel to Lupin. He, Draco, had been nothing but nasty to the professor for the past two years, never missing an opportunity to comment on his shabby clothes, his greying hair, his scars, and yet, Lupin wanted to help him, and yet Lupin would have helped him no matter what his mother had or had not said.

“Why?” The question was out before Draco could stop it. “Why would you help me?”

“Why would I not?” Lupin countered, “I know what it’s like to be met with hostility because of who I am. Because of what I am. And I know what it can do to people to ask for help but not receive it, and I have seen what it can do to people who ask for help and do receive it.” The Werewolf smiled again, more tired this time. “I would help you, because I would want to, not because your mother told me to.”

Draco nodded. That was fair, he supposed. “I’m asking for help.”

“And I will gladly give that,” Lupin replied.

Another nod from Draco. “Mother wrote to me,” he began to explain, “She’s been trying to fill me in on what is happening – with the Dark Lord’s return, with His followers. It seems there is something He wants, some sort of mission, and he has sent those loyal to him to carry out the mission. My father is one of them. Mother doesn’t know what exactly it is they want but it seems to be not going well. My mother is worried now, that He will take other actions, more radical ones, and that it may include enlisting more people. New people.”

“Young people,” Lupin added, his face giving nothing away of what he might be thinking.

“Yes,” Draco agreed, “My father has promised the Dark Lord that I would enter His services as soon as I am of age but – but mother is scared, now that things are not going to plan, he might try and do it earlier.”

“Would you like to follow Lord Voldemort?” Lupin asked casually as if he he’d asked if Draco really didn’t want tea, making the blond flinch violently.

“No!”

Lupin nodded, just once. “I can’t promise you’ll be safe, Draco,” he said, a note of regret entering his voice, “We can offer you protection. We can offer your mother protection. But I cannot promise that you’ll be safe.”

“I know.” Salazar did he know – even this conversation was a risk, was painting a target on his back and just one wrong word, at the wrong time, in the wrong place, by the wrong person – “I know,” Draco repeated, making sure his voice sounded as confident as possible, “But if this is the best chance I get, I’ll take it. I do not want to be a Death Eater. I do not want to kill or torture people. I do not want to be my father.”

He hadn’t known how true any of it was until he’d said it out loud.

Lupin smiled at his words, though it was obvious that he was trying very hard not to. “You remind me of someone else,” he explained when he saw Draco’s questioning eyes, “He also had to fight against his family’s expectations. Against their reputation.”

“You mean my cousin.”

“I do.” Lupin nodded, glancing the pictures on his desk. “He didn’t have it easy, just as you don’t have it easy.” His eyes returned to Draco, meeting and holding his gaze. “You could talk to him. If you wanted to.”

“I can’t be seen with him,” Draco said quickly. _I can’t even be seen with you_. “If someone told my father –”

“You wouldn’t be,” Lupin assured him, “We’d make sure of that. But it’s your decision.” Draco nodded slightly. “Draco, everything that happens from now on, will be your decision, as much as it can be, anyway. I know that doesn’t make up for all the decisions that have been made for you by others, but I think maybe it’s something.”

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. At this point, Draco didn’t even care. He had _options_ now, and that, above all else, was what counted.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, Draco.”

* * *

Pansy had been right. That in and of itself was nothing new since she was usually right about most things but that never made it any easier.

The match against Gryffindor had been…well…it hadn’t been anything worth mentioning again, actually, and now that Potter had a lifelong ban…what even was the bloody point of still playing? Not that he’d say that out loud of course, but the thought had occurred, now that December drew closer and mother’s letters grew darker and darker.

_I think it would be best if you stayed at Hogwarts for the Holidays_ , she’d written n her last letter, _your father has been in a particularly foul mood lately and I would hate to subject you to his wrath, especially if he should gain knowledge of your intentions. He and His followers have been at the manor more and more, occupying the Drawing Room. I have already hinted that you may not come, surely, with the OWLs so close, you would rather stay in school and use the time for studying_.

It wasn’t like Draco had looked forward to going back for Christmas but, seeing as all his friends would be staying with their families, he would have preferred it over remaining in the deserted Common Room.

_On a related note_ , his mother had continued, _I may have found information on what it is He is seeking. Word has it that there is a Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries, one that concerns Him and Harry Potter, no less. Your father and others have been guarding it and, if my information is right, trying to obtain it, with no success I might add, but that must not mean that it will stay that way. It seems that only those the Prophecy concerns are able to touch it, which means He would have an incentive on luring the Potter boy into the Ministry as he cannot go himself and risk discovery. I give you this information with the expectation that you know what to do with it. Do take care, dear, and know that I think of you. Always._

It was time, Draco found, to pay Lupin another visit.

This time, when Draco knocked, it was already quite late and he’d just finished his rounds, it took a moment for the faint voice to call him in, but it did. Eventually.

“I apologise for coming by so late, professor,” Draco said, or rather he would have said, if his voice hadn’t deserted him halfway through upon seeing the massive, black dog by Lupin’s feet.

“Come in, Draco,” Lupin replied, smiling warmly as if nothing was amiss, “I promise he doesn’t bite.” The dog let out something like a huff but remained where he was, simply staring at Draco with curiosity in his great, dark eyes. Lupin, too, looked different somehow – his shabby robes were replaced by loose Muggle clothes, his hair unusually disheveled, and Draco had no idea what he’d just walked in on. “Is everything okay?”

Lupin’s question snapped Draco out of his stupor and he finally entered the room completely, shutting the door behind himself.

“Yes,” Draco answered, “I received another letter from mother that I thought you should see.”

Lupin inclined his head and waited as Draco pulled the parchment out of his pocket and approached the desk to hand it to Lupin, keeping one eye on the dog.

“Thank you, Draco.” Lupin accepted the letter, not yet unfolding it. “Can I offer you anything?”

Draco shook his head, “No. I should probably get back –”

“Please,” Lupin cut him off, “Stay.” Hesitantly, the professor stood up, glancing at the dog, then back at Draco. “There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Padfoot.”

While Draco was still wondering what that word could possibly mean, and if it even was a word to begin with, the dog on the floor turned into a man.

“Hello cousin,” said Sirius Black.

Draco blinked. Once. Twice.

“You’re an Animagus,” he commented flatly, “Sirius Black is an unregistered Animagus.”

“Sure am,” the unregistered Animagus replied, grinning at Draco with more teeth than would have been strictly necessary. Or human.

“That’s how you escaped Azkaban,” Draco continued. It wasn’t a question, in fact, it all began to make sense now. “And got into Hogwarts. Dementors can’t sense animals and everyone else was looking for a man.”

“You’ve got your mother’s brains, I see,” Black said, somehow managing to make it sound like a compliment and insult at the same time. “How is Narcissa?”

Draco swallowed hard, not sure what to be thinking except that Black seemed dangerous with the slightly crazed look in his eyes. “She’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Black’s steely-grey eyes narrowed slightly, his upper lip drew upwards, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Betraying her husband and family name, she must be having the time of her life.”

“Sirius.” Lupin sighed the sigh of a man running out of patience, his eyes were closed and the fingers of his right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

Black ignored him. “I know a thing or two about that. Betrayal.”

He no longer looked dangerous, Draco thought, or crazy for that matter. Only tired. Tired and old. Black couldn’t be older than his mid-thirties, younger than father, and yet the lines on his face and the hollowness behind his eyes spoke a different truth – a man who had grown up too fast and seen too much.

Instead of replying to Black, Draco decided to turn his focus back on Lupin. “Will you help me?”

Lupin raised his head, he too looked tired but made a valiant effort to hide it, and picked up mother’s letter, reading it quietly. 

“A prophecy?” he asked after he’d handed the letter to Sirius. It was evident that Lupin didn’t know what that meant. While Black was still reading, Lupin kept his eyes on him, a deep crease between his brows.

“A prophecy?” Black echoed, meeting Lupin’s gaze. “You think –”

“Yes.”

Draco had no idea what was going on and seeing these two men silently communicate without speaking a single word did not help in the slightest.

“Hehem.” Draco cleared his throat, some hysterical part in his brain immediately thinking of Umbridge, if Lupin’s flinch was anything to go by, so had he.

“Thank you, Draco,” the professor said, and Draco nodded. He had questions, many of them in fact, but this was not the time. It was clear to him that Lupin and Black had things to discuss, possible people to alert, and he, Draco, had to get back to the Dungeons.

“Good night, professor.”

“Good night.”

The Castle was deserted, and Draco was confident that he wouldn’t be caught wandering the halls so late. But he still, remained cautious, it wouldn’t do to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris now with no good reason to be out after curfew. As soon as he entered the familiarity of the Dungeons, he relaxed slightly. Down here, nothing would happen to him. Not even Filch ventured this far and the only ghost he could meet was the Bloody Baron who usually left the students to their own devices. He’d be fine. He’d be in his bed soon and no one would be the wiser. He’d –

“Fancied a night stroll, Draco?” The blond froze as soon as he heard the familiar drawl of Severus’ voice. “You might want to be more careful,” Severus went on without waiting for Draco’s answer, “This is the second time that you were seen entering Lupin’s office outside his office hours.”

“How do you know that?” Draco asked, whisking around to face his godfather and Head of House.

Severus arched a single eyebrow at him. “The walls have eyes and ears, Draco, you should know this by know.” _Of course_ , it slowly dawned on him, _the portraits_. “Do I dare ask what it is you wanted from Lupin?”

“Tutoring.”

“If you feel the need to lie to me, take my advice – do better!”

Draco let out a shaky breath because he couldn’t. He couldn’t do better since he had no reason at all to be anywhere near Lupin’s office. Ever. And Severus knew that.

_Can I trust him?_ Draco wondered. He simply didn’t know.

“Very well.” Severus’ lips curled into a sneer. “I cannot force you to talk to me or ask for my help but, for future reference, do try and keep any potential clandestine meetings clandestine.” He stepped closer, one the candles illuminating his face, making his eyes appear even darker but Draco could see a softness there that he hadn’t seen in years. “You will have to be smarter, Draco.”

The Potions Master turned on his heel and stalked away into the darkness, leaving Draco frozen in place, Severus’ words echoing in his mind, merging with his mother’s voice.

_You will have to smart, Draco. Smart and strong._


	3. Chapter 3

The news of Arthur Weasley’s death spread like a wildfire through the school, leaving not a single person unaware of what had happened.

“The question is, why?” Pansy said on the first night back after Christmas break, “Why was Weasley even in the Ministry so late? And in that part, no less? Didn’t he do something with Muggle stuff? That’s on the second level.”

She had a point, of course. Weasley had no reason whatsoever to be there and yet he had been and now he was dead. Draco had the creeping suspicion that it had something to do with the Prophecy mother had mentioned.

And then aunt Bellatrix escaped Azkaban.

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_This might be the last letter I will be able to send for a while now._

_The Dark Lord and his followers have taken up permanent residence in the manor it seems, making it near impossible for me to move freely, and with my sister so close I cannot risk it. Azkaban has addled her mind, I’m afraid, making her into a maniacal, irrational woman that I hardly recognize as the girl I grew up with. It saddens me to say this, but Bellatrix has turned into the biggest threat among them all. She has already voiced her suspicions about where my loyalties lie, and I cannot risk her turning against you as well._

_This is why I think it safest if you finally broke away and free from the shackles you have been bound with. Find refuge with my cousin and live, I beg you._

_Do not worry about me, I will be fine. I am well versed in wearing masks and this is one I am familiar with, it should not take too much effort to wear it, no matter how long it takes._

_Be brave, my little dragon, and remember that I love you._

_You mother_

Narcissa Malfoy-Black had been trained from a young age to have an immaculate handwriting that spoke of her inherent dignity and power – the letter Draco was holding right now was written in shaky letters, the ink blurred together in places by tears dropping onto the parchment.

Draco’s hand, too, was shaking, and his tears joined the ones of his mother as he sat on his bed, curtains drawn and privacy charms up to stifle his sobs.

_I love you, too, mother_ , he thought, wishing he could see her now, just one more time, wishing he could hold her, wishing he could keep her safe and protect her from harm.

_Do not worry about me_ , she’d said, over and over again during the last few months, _do not worry about me_ – it was time, Draco found, to respect her wishes, no matter how much he hated them, since she respected his. It would have been easy for her to insist on father’s way, easier in fact, safer, but she’d helped him, supported him, protected him, and now, she sacrificed herself. For him.

Cleaning off his face and making sure no trace of his emotional outburst remained, Draco set his jaw and walked once more to Lupin’s office.

This time, it was Potter sitting in front of Lupin’s desk, looking dejected and like he had cried recently as well, his eyes growing wide when he spotted Draco, quickly rubbing his face.

“The essay you asked for, professor,” was everything Draco managed to come up with, dropping mother’s folded letter onto the desk, not daring to meet Lupin’s or Potter’s gaze.

“Thank you, Draco.”

And Draco left, shutting the door with a soft _click_ but not before catching a glimpse of the comforting arm Lupin laid on Harry’s shoulder. It hurt. Draco wished his mother could be here now to put a hand on his shoulder.

* * *

“Alright, talk.”

It was exceptionally early, and most students still hadn’t made their way down to breakfast while Draco had chosen to sit as far away as possible from the ones that had, hoping to make it clear that he didn’t want to be bothered. Most people respected that. Pansy was not most people.

“You’ve been acting shifty before Christmas, but now…what’s going on, Draco?”

Draco looked up from his untouched eggs to Pansy’s and Blaise’s concerned face, letting his gaze wander over Greg’s and Vince’s stoical ones, to Millicent’s angry one.

“Sit down,” he requested softly and then he began to explain. Everything. His mother’s fears for him, father’s ambitions to have Draco join the dark Lord, their plan to remove Draco somewhere save, his talk with Lupin and Black, mother’s last letter. “She tells me not to worry about her,” he whispered, “But I do. I’m afraid that she will not survive this.”

His words were met with silence. There was nothing to say. Nothing that could make this any better.

“For what it’s worth,” Vince spoke up, “We’re with you, Draco.”

“Yeah,” Greg agreed, patting Draco on the back rather awkwardly, “We’re with you.”

Draco nodded slowly, accepting their comfort and support.

_I’m not alone_ , he told himself, _I’m not alone_.

“Who can we trust?” Pansy asked, voice lowered as the Great Hall filled itself with more and more students.

“Us, obviously,” Blaise replied, “Lupin and Black, apparently. I know they fought against the Dark Lord the last time he was strong. Also, and I hate to say this, Potter and his gang in association.”

“They won’t help us, though,” Millicent argued, looking grim and like she was planning someone’s murder, “And they certainly won’t trust us.”

Draco had to agree with her. The ship on which they could have been working together had sailed approximately four and a half years ago when two eleven-year-old boys had met on a train and a handshake had been offered and denied.

“What about Dumbledore?” Greg suggested but Draco shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I have a feeling about him.”

He couldn’t explain it but he still remembered the look between Lupin and Black when they had learned about the Prophecy, as if their greatest fears had come true, as if a missing piece of a massive puzzle had shown up and slid into its rightful place, as if they had been betrayed all over again.

“Snape?”

As if on its own accord, Draco’s head turned towards the teacher’s table where Severus was sitting, already watching them with an unreadable expression.

“Perhaps.”

_You will have to be smarter, Draco._

* * *

Draco didn’t have to wait long for an opportunity to talk to Severus, after the next Potions lessons, his godfather gave him an intense stare, paired with a raised eyebrow, which was enough to let Draco stay behind.

“What have I told you,” Severus began, his voice sharp, “About visibly seeking out Lupin?”

“It won’t happen again,” Draco replied, “But it was an emergency.”

Severus let out a shaky breath. “Yes,” he said, “I imagine it was.” _What do you know?_ Draco wanted to ask, but before he could, Severus already continued. “Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped, though there was no real bite behind the words, “You are not the only one your mother has been sending letters to.”

It made sense, of course. Mother and Severus had always been close, to the point where Draco had actually suspected on more than one occasion that they were more than just friends.

“Then what do I do?” he finally asked. Severus opened his mouth to answer but didn’t get a chance. “And don’t you dare tell me to be smart,” Draco added, hating the way his voice shook.

“You are smart,” Severus replied uncharacteristically soft, “You have been smart. But you need to be smarter, Draco.” He sighed, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out to Draco but thought better of it. “With the new addition to the staff it is more important than ever to make sure there is no doubt about where your allegiance lies. If Umbridge hears as much as a rumour of you consorting with Werewolves and ex-convicts, those things will go straight to your father and I don’t think I need to tell you what might happen then.” Draco shook his head, he knew all too good how his father would react to those kinds of news.

“Then what do I do?” he asked again, desperate, frantic, scared. Draco hated feeling like this. Weak. He was a Malfoy, Malfoys were not weak.

_Am I though? Am I still a Malfoy?_

“You continue the way you have,” Severus answered, “You stop visiting Lupin’s office, if you feel the need to talk to him or Black, you come to me and I will carry on your message. I noticed you have already confided in your friends, that is a risk, but I admit it might be a risk worth taking and I trust your judgement. You will need allies. Do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself, but do keep close to Umbridge. Get through the rest of the year and once summer approaches we will work out an arrangement that will keep you, and possibly your mother, safe.”

That sounded sensible enough, Draco found, although it eluded him why Severus would support his efforts to contact Lupin and Black since he so clearly hated both.

_It doesn’t matter why_ , he thought, _only that he does_. He could worry about Severus’ intentions later but right now Severus was right, he needed allies.

“Okay,” he agreed.

“Then we understand each other.”

Draco nodded. “We do.”

* * *

Draco did what Severus advised him to do, joining Umbridge in her fight against what seemed to be the entire school.

By February it seemed Potter had finally cracked and told the real story of the Third Task, creating a nice little outcry within the entire British Wizarding community and resulting in a ban of the _Quibbler_ within the school, naturally, that just meant everyone read it. Seeing his father’s name printed black on white did nothing to lift Draco’s spirits but there was nothing he could do about that except grit his teeth together anytime someone send him a deathly glare, or a teacher took points from Slytherin because he’d dropped a book.

By March, both Trelawney and Lupin were fired.

“I will take over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Umbridge had announced after Lupin had left the Castle without making a scene like Trelawney. The next DADA lesson was the worst Draco had ever sat through and followed by lively discussions on the Slytherin Common Room that mostly consisted of Adrian saying, “I told you so,” to anybody who wanted to hear it and also those who didn’t.

The next morning, they found large signs on every noticeboard, declaring _Educational Decree Number Twenty-Seven_.

“What in Merlin’s name –” Graham Montague muttered, standing next to Draco and staring at the sign, like everyone else around them, before storming off, probably to get permission to re-form the Quidditch team, and Blaise stepped next to him.

“Ten Galleons says this has something to do with Potter,” he whispered, making Draco let out a rather undignified snort.

“I’m not losing that money.” Draco expected it would be no problem getting Umbridge’s permission for their Quidditch team – she’d been a Slytherin herself and, seeing as many of their parents were important names in the Ministry, she wouldn’t dare to deny them this, not to mention that none of them had a habit of picking a fight with a teacher. Unlike Potter. “Come on,” he said to Blaise, “Let’s get some breakfast.”

The Great Hall was filled with tension, everyone freaking out over the new Decree, running up and down the tables and causing even more noise than usually. Draco also noted that Potter and his friends cast around particularly shifty looks as if they were trying to find something in the crowd of over-excited teenagers.

“I would have won that bet,” Blaise said mournfully, looking at the same thing as Draco.

“That’s why I didn’t take it,” Draco pointed out, taking a bite from his toast, watching as two Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaws made to approach the Gryffindor table but were quickly dissuaded by Granger. “’Though I wonder,” he added, “What have they gotten up to that made Umbridge forbid all clubs?”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Blaise answered but his words were betrayed by the eagerness in his eyes.

“Yes, you do.”

Blaise grinned. “Yes, I do.” He took a sip from his tea before standing up. “Let’s see what I can find out.”

Blaise was, incontestably, the biggest gossip of the school – if you wanted to know something, you asked him, and 24 hours later he’d deliver. “Knowledge is power,” Blaise had taken to saying, and it was, but Draco also had it on good authority that his friend loved being in the know of everything, and having blackmail material on other people never hurt anyone.

* * *

Blaise would have won the bet as it turned out when Dumbledore’s Army was found and Dumbledore, himself, sacked.

“Inquisitorial Squad?” Pansy scoffed within the privacy of Draco’s bed curtains, “How more pretentious can she get?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Draco replied, barely looking up from his Charm’s homework, “We’ll do it anyway.”

And thus, it seemed, the decision was made – where people may have disliked them before, now they positively loathed them, silently cursing the House Slytherin and Draco in particular.

“You know,” Blaise said after someone had gotten the drop on Greg and Vince and managed to turn their hair pink, “If I was them, I’d hate you, too.”

“Thanks, Blaise, that’s real helpful,” Pansy shot back, scowling at her while she tried to fix her friends’ hair.

“I try.”

Draco could deal with being hated, he was used to it, owned it. There was no other choice, really, when you were Sorted into Slytherin, you either learned to live it with or break, and Draco would pick living anytime.

True to her word, mother hadn’t sent another letter and there no news in the _Prophet_ or any other paper which, Draco supposed, was probably a good sign.

_At least she hasn’t been found dead in a ditch._

_At least Bellatrix hasn’t tried to invade Hogwarts yet._

_At least father doesn’t know about my betrayal yet._

_At least, at least, at least_ – Draco knew perfectly well that he was silver-lining the shit out of this but what else was he supposed to do? He’d made his choice, telling mother that he did not want to follow father’s footsteps, and she’d made hers by helping him. Whether it was the _right_ choice remained yet to be seen, but at least it was _his_ choice. Somehow, that helped.

_At least, if I die now_ , he thought, _it’ll be my own damn fault_.

* * *

The night before the History of Magic exam they all bore witness to McGonagall surviving four Stunners and Hagrid disappearing into the darkness – not a great loss, the latter, Draco found, but he did regret McGonagall’s injuries. She’d always been a fair teacher.

Potter collapsed during the actual History of Magic exam.

And then father ended up in Azkaban.

“Fucking Potter!” Draco could hear Nott’s cursing and swearing through the door of their dorm. He and his friends were sitting in a lone corner of the Common Room, letting the news sink in of what had happened at the Ministry – not that anyone knew the details. None of the students had been there after all, but the story went that Potter had alerted Dumbledore somehow, who had fought the Dark Lord and his followers together with an assorted group of other adults – Draco had half a mind to agree with Nott.

“It’s not Potter’s fault, you know,” Pansy reminded them.

_I know_ , Draco wanted to say, _father made his choice, as well_ , but before he could, it was Greg who replied, “Maybe not. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it.”

Which was definitely true. Ever since it had happened, Potter and his little gang had been strutting through the Castle as if they owned it, sneering and glaring at any Slytherin they happened to see, no matter who it was.

“What will you do now?” Millicent asked.

“I need to talk to Severus.” It was all he could do to not panic.

Both Greg and Vince stood up with him. “We’re coming with you,” Greg announced.

“We’re not letting you walk around on your own now that everyone knows,” Vince added.

Draco rolled his eyes, not willing to admit just how much he appreciated it. “Come on, then.”

Severus, it turned out, was not in his office. The three Slytherin’s walked up the stairs, towards the Entrance Hall and, how else should be, straight into Potter.

“What’s the matter, Malfoy?” Potter called out after Malfoy had frozen in place, not exactly keen on walking past the Gryffindor at the moment, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Piss off, Potter.” As insults went, that was a weak one, but Draco couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he wanted was to find Severus.

“Not so proud anymore, are you?” Potter went on, smiling as if he’d won the lottery, “Who are you without your daddy?”

“He’ll be back.” _He’s gonna kill all of us when he does…_

“Yeah, I know he will,” Harry replied, voice lower now, more dangerous, his hand twitching at his side. Surely, he wouldn’t? “But at least now everyone knows what kind of scumbag he is.”

Potter’s hand kept twitching and Draco couldn’t help it, he, too reached for his wand but before he even had a chance to touch it, Potter had his already aimed at his chest.

“Potter!”

Draco let out a breath of relief at the sound of his godfather’s voice and barely listened as Potter got an earful of insults and taunts, as McGonagall came through the entrance, as Greg, Vince and Potter were send away, finally leaving him with Severus.

“My office,” the Head of Slytherin said as soon as their eyes met, walking towards the staircase and Draco followed happily.

“What will you do?” Severus asked as soon as they’d closed the door.

“I can’t go back.”

“Obviously.” Severus raised his eyebrows at him, his lips in a thin line. “I have taken the freedom of contacting Lupin and Black. They are willing to take you in.”

“They are?” _Why?_

“They are,” Severus confirmed, “You will leave tonight as to not alert anyone. Do not tell your friends where you are spending the summer, it would only endanger everyone involved.

Draco nodded. _Of course_. “What about mother?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

Severus’ eyes softened. “She is alive and unharmed.” Another nod. If that was all he could ask for, he’d take it. “She will, however,” Severus went on, “Remain in the Manor. At least for now.”

“Thank you.”

A muscle in Severus’ face twitched but otherwise there was no sign that he’d even heard Draco which was just as well.

“Pack your things, say your goodbyes, and then meet me by professor McGonagall’s office after dinner.”

“Yes.”

It would, undoubtfully, be a very interesting summer.


End file.
